


Only You Know What You Like Best

by myoldsupernaturalaccount



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Autofellatio, Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myoldsupernaturalaccount/pseuds/myoldsupernaturalaccount
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since purgatory opened, other rifts in space-time have been opening up.  One of them spits out Misha.  Castiel finds him and porn ensues.  Naturally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only You Know What You Like Best

Castiel was perplexed.

Not by the rift in space-time, those were popping up all over the place since purgatory had opened. No, he was perplexed because he appeared to be staring at himself, and he was pretty sure that he had blown out the last of the mirrors in the area taking out that pack of demons.

He blinked a few times, thinking that perhaps the eyes of his vessel were acting up, some kind of result of unleashing his true voice while still contained in Jimmy. But no, the man was still there, dressed in his clothes, brow furrowed just like Castiel's.

“Um, hi there...me,” the man said, stepping towards Castiel with a hand extended. Castiel stepped back, eying him warily.

“Who are you?” he asked suspiciously.

“Misha, Misha Collins,” the man answered. He looked like Castiel – or rather, Jimmy – down to the smallest detail, but his voice was higher, lighter, unconcerned.

“What are you doing here?” Castiel inquired.

“I don't know,” he said frankly. “Last thing I remember, I was in some alley with a knife against my throat and then bam, I'm here! Better here than dead, although meeting myself is kind of a surprise...”

“I am not you,” Castiel insisted. “You are...a figment.”

The man eyed him critically before plucking at his sleeve and then pinching his own cheek. “Nope, pretty sure I'm real,” he said. “So you know about me, what's your deal?”

Castiel straightened up, pressing the lapels of his trench coat flat. “I am an angel of the Lord,” he replied. “My name is Castiel.”

“No way!” Misha cried, his eyes lighting up. “I play you! I mean, you're my character! No wonder you look like me! Did I like...bring you to life? That is so cool!”

It was not the reaction Castiel was expecting. He bristled. “I am not your 'character' and you did not bring me to life,” he said shortly. “My best guess is that you are my analogue from another universe, perhaps the one that Sam and Dean visited.”

“Whoa, so it's all real here,” Misha mused, stroking his chin. “I gotcha. So tell me, have you and Dean hooked up yet?”

Castiel stared at him. “...What?”

“You know,” Misha said, elbowing him and winking. “All the writers say it's legit. You two are meant to be, profound bond, you know.”

Castiel kept staring.

Misha raised an eyebrow. “So you two haven't...you know...consummated your relationship? Oh man, I must have been brought here to fix this!”

“I'm sorry, fix what?” Castiel asked, thoroughly confused.

“Oh man, you do not know what you are missing,” Misha gushed. “I mean, if Dean is anything like Jensen...hoo boy!”

Castiel just blinked.

“Hey, wanna see this thing I can do? I bet you can do it, too, since you're me and all. Jensen thinks it's hot, maybe Dean will, too,” he continued. Did this guy ever shut up? “Here, watch.” Misha headed over to a wall of the abandoned building they were in and lay on his back with his legs up in the air. Castiel looked on, abject confusion clouding his features as the man apparently bent in two, his crotch nearly coming in contact with his face.

“It's a lot more fun when you're not wearing pants,” Misha explained. Castiel's expression must have spoken volumes because Misha rolled over until he was sitting cross-legged on the ground, staring at Castiel with a disbelieving look on his face. “You mean you've never...not once?” he said incredulously.

“I'm not sure what you're asking,” Castiel responded, only a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

Misha rolled his eyes and laughed. “You've never...you know...had a blow job?”

Castiel frowned. “I've never had occasion.”

“Well,” Misha said, eyes bright. “The best are the ones you do yourself, because only you know what you like best. Take off your pants.”

He stared. “Excuse me?”

“Take off your pants,” Misha instructed, gesturing at Castiel's lower garment and removing his own. “And then do this,” he continued, dropping into the same contorted position he had been in previously. Castiel awkwardly stepped out of his slacks and underwear, trying to copy how Misha was...sitting? Lying? Whatever it was, it didn't work, and he ended up in a tangled heap on the floor.

“I don't think I can...make my limbs go that way,” Castiel forced through gritted teeth. It felt like he pulled something. He probably did pull something. He doubted that Jimmy was some crazy yoga master like Misha.

Misha grinned. “Hey, no sweat. You know, since I'm you and you're me...and you can't blow yourself...the next best thing...”

Castiel's eyes widened almost comically as Misha crawled over with a giant smirk on his face and licked along Castiel's lips. Castiel startled and jumped back but hit the wall hard. Misha smiled gently at him. “Just relax,” he ordered. “I'll take care of you. Me.”

The angel gulped but let out the breath he had been holding and unclenched his fists, not protesting as Misha worked at his neck with his lips, even leaning into the touch of his hands on his thighs. When Misha moved down, trailing soft fingers over his cock, he made a noise, a quiet whimper that slipped out before he could stop it. He felt the blood rushing to his face and his groin, completely without his say-so and it was strangely exhilarating, losing control like this.

He really lost control when Misha brushed his lips against the head of his cock, partially erect and painfully sensitive, and he groaned out loud, hips twitching. Misha placed a hand on his hip, holding him in place. “Whoa there, calm down,” he said with a flash of blindingly white teeth. “I gotcha.” Castiel closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, giving into the sensations coursing through him. Everything was wet and heat and tightness and softness and he couldn't take it, the suction and damp and pressure. He was making noises freely now, and Misha hummed appreciatively around him, pulling off with a wet pop only to return a moment later, tongue flattening and tightening in turn. His hands traveled up and down Castiel's thighs, caressing the top of his hip and stroking the soft skin between his legs. Castiel trembled and bucked his hips up, needing more contact and no contact all at once, and something snapped inside him, his muscles tightening and contracting and he came down Misha's throat, shouting something wordless. Misha swallowed it all down and pulled away, snaking his arms around Castiel's shoulders and kissing him deeply.

“You like that?” Misha asked finally, panting a little, eyes smiling.

It was all Castiel could do to nod wordlessly, still shaking with the aftershocks of his first orgasm. Misha grinned victoriously.

“Well if you liked that, you're really going to like fucking,” Misha said seductively, trailing his finger down to between Castiel's legs, dancing it over his opening playfully. Castiel shuddered and groaned. This man was going to be the death of him.

But when Misha captured his lips again, passionate and playful and perfect, he couldn't bring himself to mind.


End file.
